I miss my stepmom. Today would have been her 71st birthday, and for some reason she has been on my mind more than usual lately.

I miss her even-tempered outlook, how she took everything in stride – even cancer and open-heart surgery. I miss her non-judgmental attitude, how she accepted everyone despite their flaws. I miss her generous spirit and patience. I miss her gumbo. I miss her love of capers and flavored iced tea. I miss her unflagging devotion to causes – church, teaching, volunteering. I miss her love of Audie Murphy and the Land Before Time movies. I miss her love of babies, whether in the church nursery or in the family – she cherished them all. I miss her crochet skills – the woman could crochet in her sleep and always had a project going, usually a baby afghan. I miss her competitiveness – it wasn’t overtly displayed but she loved to play dominoes, or win the door prizes at conventions, or teach one more year to hold the district record before she retired. I miss how she fussed at my dad – which was often – yet only once in 42 years of marriage did she actually utter a curse word. I miss how she honored her family and held on to traditions, recipes and history. I miss how she attended the same church faithfully for 50+ years, yet never forced her ideology on anyone. I miss how she loved listening to oldies music. I miss how she loved getting pedicures. I miss the times she held my babies and helped me recover from c-sections and made sure everything was taken care of. I miss how she brought people together, and made friends wherever she went.

I will miss her at my son’s graduation next year. I will miss her at my daughter’s wedding. I will miss her at the birth of their children because I know how thrilled she would have been for great-grandbabies. I will continue to miss her in little ways every day, and with greater heartache on holidays and birthdays, like today.

I hope she’s having an amazing birthday in Heaven, surrounded by family and friends, and hopefully Audie Murphy too.

Rarely am I bothered by things that the mainstream dictates as “offensive”. However, there are some occasions when it hits me – hard. For instance, I found myself truly offended a few years ago at the rodeo when two women wearing hijabs stopped by a booth to put on cowboy hats and take selfies. Considering there would be cultural ramifications for me (a non-Muslim) even trying on a hijab, I found it particularly insulting that these women would put such a culturally iconic symbol over their veiled heads for giggling pictures. If you are going to whine about Americans showing you cultural respect, then do the same in return.

But alas, this post is about a different matter. One near and dear to my heart, even more so than western attire, though just as symbolic in its own right. American muscle cars. Yes you read that right – muscle cars. Those iconic heavy metal masterpieces of horsepower, wrapped in steel and accented in chrome. Every American car company had their players in the game – Chevy had Camaro, Chevelle, Nova and of course the Corvette. Ford had the Shelby Cobra, Mustangs and the Mercury Cougar. Pontiac had the GTO and Firebird, Oldsmobile had the 442 and Dodge had the greats like the Challenger and Charger. Even their colors has amazing names like Ermine White, Plum Crazy Purple, Daytona Yellow, Fathom Green and Lemans Blue. Then, to go the extra mile, they were special editions that just set the bar higher. In 1969 a four door Chevelle with a small block 327 was a nice family car. A two door Chevelle with a small block 350 was just plain fun! A two door Chevelle SS big block 396 meant you were owning the road. But a Chevelle Yenko/SC 427 (deep sigh)…if you could get your hands on one of the 99 rare beasts made by Don Yenko and Chevrolet, well that one made life just about perfect. Powered by a 427-inch big block with 450 hp, your choice of a 4-speed manual or 3-speed automatic transmission, power brakes, power steering, heavy duty springs and your choice of either Rally or Mag wheels. In 1969, this amazing ride would have set you back a whopping $5,200. Recently one of these rare beauties sold at auction for $275,000. (Hold on- I have to pause and wipe the drool off my chin).

Ok, back to being offended.

There is so much to love about these icons. But part of what makes them legendary is that they have become rare gems. Given their age and the fact that most of these cars were raced and wrecked in their prime, very few have survived as road-worthy (or at least restorable). But like any fabled creature surrounded by tall-tales and amazing stories, there are also those who just have to ruin a good thing.

1969 Dodge Charger – very cool and very rare

It was one thing when our car culture decided to go “retro”. There was the reintroduced VW Beetle, some not so successful creations like the HHR and the PT Cruiser, and revamped classics like the Camaro and Mustang*. Then Dodge decided it would be “cool” to bring back the Challenger, Charger, Avenger, and Dart. (deep breath) Why Dodge? Why pin classic names to new cars that have NOTHING in common with their iconic predecessors?

2016 Dodge Charger – not even close!

And since we are on the subject of destroying icons, Chevy keeps circulating rumors of a new Chevelle (that looks like the bastard child of a Camaro and an Impala), and some NJ based company called SVE has licensed the rights to use the term “Yenko/SC” and is building 800 hp Camaros under this pseudonym.

NOW I’M OFFENDED!

“Gee I wish I had a Chevelle with safety features and too many electronics, that has no performance and that I can’t work on, and ultimately costs more than my first house!” SAID NO ONE EVER.

Stop screwing with these LEGENDS! Get your heads out of your corporate asses and get some damn originality in your design department. If you can’t think of something innovative then quit making cars! As for the guys licensing the Yenko moniker – you take the cake in lack of originality. You just couldn’t let that badge rest on its laurels. Not quite as bad as Ford misusing the Cobra badge on newer Mustang’s, but at least Dodge came up with a new designation when it created the Hellcat. Oh – I get that you do custom work and make super cars, but then so does Hennessey Performance, and they don’t trash vintage terms to do it.

So yes, I’m offended. Partially by the trampling of amazing memories and classic creations, but MOSTLY by the lack of originality in a billion dollar industry. Show some respect to the culture and history that you helped define and that set you apart in the first place! Instead of butchering the past, you should be shaping the future – finding cool new designs that embrace change and make driving fun again. You should be inspiring a whole new generation in the love affair with performance and design concepts, and showing them what it really means when you say “this is not your father’s Oldsmobile”.

*While Camaros and Mustangs have changed immensely over the years, they get a pass in this rant because they have remained current and progressed with the times.

Once upon a time I was in love. Deeply, madly in love. The object of my affections was everything I wanted a man to be except he had one of those jobs where he traveled a lot so there was always distance between us. Sometimes it was a few weeks, sometimes I wouldn’t see him for nearly a year. I didn’t mind it so much because I had enough going on with my kids being younger, and when we did see each other we were so very happy together. But between his job and some health concerns, the stretches in time grew longer until my lover stopped communicating altogether – no emails or calls or texts – just disappeared. I worried about him for months – then months turned into years and life moved on and I put him behind me (not without crying and cursing, but I did it). The end.

A few years I dated another great guy, who was an addict that had been sober nearly 12 years. One day my ex came up in conversation and I was enlightened that while I may have fancied myself in love, in reality I had been used by an alcoholic. I was shocked. Sure my former flame had been a heavy drinker, but he didn’t blackout or get DUI’s or anything like that. Yeah – apparently I was too naïve to see the truth of that relationship. In hindsight, educated by someone who had been there/done that to others, it became very clear what kind of relationship I had been in and how I had been manipulated. Now, knowing this may have changed my perspective on the man, but not my feelings for him. I had known him on sober days (and nights) and there were qualities about him I still loved. I decided I would hold those memories for the comfort they brought me and not color them with regret. Besides it wasn’t like he was ever coming back. My sober friend disagreed, saying oh yeah, one day, he’ll be back – either because he’s drinking and fallen really low and needs help, or because he’s sober and making amends. I countered with possibility #3 – he’s dead – which I hoped was the case. At least then I had closure.

Well, after 6 years of radio silence from the man I fancied myself in love with, low and behold, out the blue, I got an email from him. I felt a burst of joy and giddiness! He was alive and apparently didn’t live too far away. We exchanged emails and he said he wanted to see me. YES! I was elated! He was back and coming to see me! Then logic returned with echoes of sober-friend’s warnings. I had to step back, let the joyful surprise subside, and ask more serious questions. I needed to know where he’d been and why he was reaching out now. I got a long explanation about all the drama and medical issues he’d been through, and how he hadn’t wanted to bring me down with his deep dark issues. But then I found out he had moved back and been living within 30 minutes of me for the past two years without saying a word. That hurt. And then I found out he was remarried. THAT pain has no descriptor.

Why the hell even email me when you’re married to another woman?!?! Again, sage advice from a man who’d been “this guy” came back to me. He hadn’t come back because he loved and missed me – he had come back because he needed something from me. Maybe he wanted a lover, maybe he wanted a shoulder to cry on, maybe he wanted a threesome. Whatever it is, I don’t know because I stopped asking questions. I sent him a response and with it a closure I had previously been denied. My first trip down the rabbit hole was wondrous because I didn’t know any better, but thanks, let’s not do that again.

I won’t lie and say the decision to end our reunion doesn’t hurt like hell. I deeply loved this man, some part of me probably always will. But we don’t get to be older and wiser without having learned a few lessons in the hardest, most painful, most soul-crushing ways imaginable, and at least this time I was the one who did the walking away.

Early last year I lost my job at an oil & gas company due to downsizing (not a surprise in this area). I prayed for something with great pay, some challenge (not so routine), and most of all, industry security. That prayer was answered in the form of an administrative role with a tax firm. While we are busiest from 2/15 – 4/15, I have come to realize that since we handle corporate taxes, there is some sort of deadline EVERY month. Every day is a challenge, but mostly in the “how am I going to get all this done today?” kind of way. In hindsight I should have been a bit more specific when I put that prayer out to the Universe. But I did get my secure industry because nothing is more constant than taxes.

Except death.

Last week my stepmother passed away. At 69 years young, this unassuming woman had been a part of my life for as long as I can remember. She never cursed (although there was that one time she said ‘shit’ instead of ‘shoot’ and we laughed because she was so embarrassed to say a curse word). She never wore makeup or jewelry either – she was simple and unadorned and we loved her more for it. Since she came from a different generation, she had a long list of causes she had been devoted to for multiple decades:

51 years at the same church. 34 of those were spent serving in the nursery. It was her ministry to take care of the children so their parents could attend worship service. She cared for babies in the nursery until they were old enough to go to Sunday school classes. And yes, she saw more than a few mature to adulthood and get married in that same church.

44 years as a teacher in the same middle school (she set a district record). Most of that as a science teacher, but later as a special-ed teacher. She had taught students who were kids of former students.

42 years married to my father. If you knew my dad, you’d understand what kind of amazing record that is.

Various clubs and organizations that she devoted time to through the years, none of which she had been in for less than a decade.

She always had a crochet project in hand and made countless baby blankets and afghans for any expectant mother or ill friend she knew of. We could probably cover a smaller state with the amounts of blankets she made over the years.

Her spirit was not only generous but resilient as well. She had survived multiple bouts of cancer, a severe car accident a few years ago, and open heart surgery more recently. But all of that takes a toll and she had gotten to the point where her body just stopped fighting and she succumbed to congestive heart failure. But that spirit of hers had touched so many others, as was evident by the outpouring of support during her funeral.

Her devotion to her causes also showed me that I have no sense of accomplishment, nothing like the years of giving this selfless woman amassed. There is nothing in my life that I have ever felt so passionately about that I would devote decades to it (kids and family don’t count). I fear that if I died today, my epitaph would be short and uneventful, and I really don’t like that feeling. And while taxes may be a constant, a soul-sucking, mind-numbing job is not where I want to spend my days. I’m ok working 50-60 hours a week, but I’d like that time and energy to be put towards a cause I can believe in.

I have lost the woman who was a second mother to me, a simple woman who made incredible gumbo, knew how to handle my father, always gave and never took, loved gospel and 50’s music, was the world’s biggest Audie Murphy fan, loved pansies and the color purple, and acted as a conduit to bring friends and relations closer (because even if we weren’t getting along, we WOULD get together and make it work for her sake).

As a family, and to an extent a community, our way ahead is going to be harder without her support and generous spirit. But as she has shown us, while death and taxes may be certainties in this life, so is the fact that it takes so little effort to make great changes in the lives around you.

As 2016 draws to a close, Life seems to have kicked in to a higher gear. I’m trying to get my daughter moved out of state (which has its own set of challenges), family members are facing health concerns, the dating life is non-existent and the job is still moving at a frantic pace. So what does my girl-brain decide to do? Get hung up on an abstract detail of course. A once benign question morphed into a life-altering conundrum just when I need it the least…let me explain.

For a few years now I’ve run across someone locally who had my same name. We had the same dentist, used the same mechanic, and shopped at a handful of other stores. It was odd and often left me wondering if I had ever stood in line with this other woman, or even if there had been identity theft. Then a few weeks ago I gave in to the crazy urge and googled my name. Ugh! BIG MISTAKE! So many women share my name! Even a couple have the same middle name! WTH?

Ok – so nominally I’m not as unique as I thought. But then I started looking over some of the bios and reasons they show up in internet searches. Ironically most of them are in the medical, science or mental-health fields. These ladies have very distinguished careers, working to change the world and just generally make life better across the board.

Now, I’m an only child so I’ve never been subjected to the whole sibling rivalry/comparison thing. But reading about these women was about as close as I could have gotten. My other namesakes are brilliant and accomplished and recognized among their peers. And I’m…well…not. Suddenly girl-brain took this once vague idea and built a glorious temple around the concept of “compared to these women, who the hell am I?” I have recently spent too many hours on the cold marble floors of meaningless self-reflection just pondering that statement. Admittedly to little avail.

Oh the ponderings have run very deep at times, and I’ve made some interesting observations about myself and the state of my life. But there is still no definitive answer to “who am I?” Depending on the day of the week, how stressed I am, and a thousand other conditions, the answers vary from ‘an unappreciated mother who’s ready to strangle her eldest’ to ‘an old soul who’s tired of all the noise’ to ‘an imaginative writer about to burst onto the publishing scene’ to ‘a failure who just wants to go to sleep and never wake up’. Yeah – some days are harder than others, but these pondering haven’t been all bad. They’ve helped me take stock and see where I am, to accept what I’ve done in my life and what I haven’t done with my life. Which leads me to ponder what I will do to change that.

Who am I? I wish I knew – I wish I had a concrete answer that resonated in my spirit and just leapt out in response. But maybe its good that I don’t because it allows me to be whoever I want to be, or need to be, depending on what Life has thrown my way. I have also accepted that while other ladies may share my name, that’s about as far as we go in comparison of our lives and I need to leave it as such. I wish I could say girl-brain has torn down her temple of painful contemplation and let the subject go, but she’s just not quite there yet. I had her at least add a comfy couch and some soothing music so I could reflect in peace. Those marble floors are hard on the spirit as well as the knees.

I have to admit I love to play on the NOAA website (National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration). This is likely due to my fascination with weather related things and the fact that they are THE weather people. I love looking at satellite images, or checking hurricane reports. They have an amazingly user-friendly site.

Typically when you look at these satellite images, you have a couple different options. You can look at water vapor, infra-red, different areas of the country, visible real-time photos (great when looking at storms). But whichever view you look at, there is a satellite name with it; usually GOES West, GOES East, or Meterosat-9.

GOES stands for Geostationary Operational Environmental Satellite. There are several of these in orbit and as the name implies, they are stationary over a particular area and that’s their region to monitor. I remember there was even a GOES reference at the beginning of the movie Twister, to show how far weather imagery had advanced from the opening sequence. Most of us Earth-bound mortals don’t care that such satellites exist, but I have enjoyed their views and am thankful for their real-time streams of information that show meteorologists (and weather buffs like myself) what’s coming and going in the air around us.

Having said that, I was playing on the NOAA site today when I found a newsletter update that GOES-3 had reached the end of its lifespan. Launched in June of 1978, this satellite has had quite the career. In May of 1980 it managed to capture the eruption of Mt. St. Helens, which looks very different when seen from orbit. The video shows cloud cover and then poof! A massive hole appears from the force of the erupting debris, then the darker ash clouds are visible. After 10 years GOES-3 lost its imaging ability, but was repurposed as a communication satellite for Pan-Pacific Education and Communications Experiments out of Hawaii. It was part of a fundamental link that aided the Pacific area in education, healthcare and even disaster management. Having 2 lives it pretty good, but GOES-3 lived up to its name and had a 3rd. In 1995 it was adopted by the National Science Foundation to provide communications for the Antarctic research facility.

Artist rendering of GOES-3

Finally, after 38 years, 3 important jobs, and countless orbits, GOES-3 was decommissioned this past June, which oddly saddens me. Don’t ask why, I guess it’s just like losing a favorite old car, or watching a familiar landmark get torn down. I know it hasn’t actually showed anyone the weather in 20 years, but that’s not the point. It served its purpose and then found new ones – tasks it was uniquely suited for and performed well.

Currently GOES-3 stands as the oldest continually operating spacecraft in history at 38 years and 13 days. So very much has changed in our world while it whirled silently around over our heads. I tip my hat to those men and women who kept this satellite in orbit, operating and employed for such a lifespan.

I have been a faithful lover of your product for 40+ years now. From grand sweeping epics like Gone with the Wind, to the timeless animation of most anything Disney, to adventures in space with light sabers or robots or even very scary Aliens. I have laughed with icons such as Gene Wilder, Bette Midler, and George Burns. I’ve been terrified by Jaws, Alien, and Poltergeist. I have been caught up in timeless romances with The Notebook, Pride & Prejudice, and oh yes, Gone with the Wind (that one really covers a lot of ground).

You have given us heroes of all shapes, sizes and colors. You have countered every one with villains of every conceivable nature. You have taught us to dream bigger, push farther, and stretch our imaginations and hearts to the breaking point. We laugh, cry, scream in fright and sometimes anger – right along with the characters you send us. Occasionally you even change our very lives because of a few hours spent in the dark, staring at that alluring silver screen.

But lately I find myself disappointed on a consistent basis. What’s the deal Hollywood?

Let’s start with this – Why do you feel it necessary to rehash timeless classics? The Amityville Horror, Carrie, Footloose, Ghostbusters – the originals captivated us, told the story very well, and didn’t need to be remade. If the original was a success, and no one was clamoring for a redo, why go through the trouble? All you’re doing is trivializing the epic-ness of the first one.

Why drag out a series ad-nauseum? Nightmare on Elm Street, Saw, X-Men, Jurassic Park, Fast & Furious. They all get to the point where they are entirely too predictable – same heroes, different villains, someone important dies to shake things up, good guys still win and we’ve set up the next movie. We loved them in the beginning, but you drag them out to the point that it’s just no fun anymore. Stop it!

What happened to epic sagas? Again I defer to GWTW as my standby measure. Avatar was on that scale – lord knows that movie needed an intermission. But it seems this art-form of grand story telling is lost and that’s a shame.

Do you ever listen to public opinion or screen movies before releasing them? My guess here is no. If you did you would not have released the monumental disappointment known as Superman vs Batman, Dawn of Justice. I think I just threw up a little thinking about it. I won’t fault your cast choices (especially Gal Gadot as Wonder Woman). But the lack of story line, the over use of flashbacks (we ALL KNOW what’s happened with Kent and Wayne to make them who they are!), and the warped portrayal of Lex Luthor with an almost Riddler-esque quality. Not to mention that bizarre monster thing you threw in. Geez – 2 hours of setup rehashing things we already knew and swirling miscommunication to get to 5 minutes of action for everyone to kiss and make up at the end. And the haphazard way you tossed in the future members of the Justice League – did you forget they were supposed to be included? If you had screened it before final cutting, you could have made some serious improvements and saved the audience about 40 minutes of lost life-span.

I think opinion polls or test audiences would also help steer you away from failures like Winter’s Tale, Pompeii, The Single Mom’s Club, Cowboys vs Aliens, Driven, Gigli, Pixels, and Zoom. These are just a handful of the bombs that have cost far more to make than they could ever hope to bring in. Who approves the budget for these? Who thought any of these were a good idea?

Do the people who adapt books to screenplays ever actually read the book? While The Notebook was phenomenal, I’m specifically referring to Starship Troopers. Other than the title and character names, NOTHING in this movie reflected the plot, ideals, or storyline of the book. It’s a fantastic book but no one wants to read it anymore because they associate it with that lame excuse for a movie. The fact that there were subsequent really really bad films to make a series only nauseates me further. Other shameful adaptations include War of the Worlds, The Great Gatsby, The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen, and the Harry Potter books. C’mon guys! Read the book first!!

And on a personal note, for the love of little kittens, please STOP rehashing comic book characters; Spiderman, Batman, Catwoman, Superman, Fantastic Four, even the Joker!! Leave these guys alone and move on to someone else.

I could add another page on remakes and rehashing that is Star Wars, but I digress. I could ask why we no longer expect our actors to be gentleman with style or ladies of elegance and wit. Seriously, name me one current A-list actress that can act, sing, and dance backwards in high heels? *(update, I stand corrected – Emma Stone).

Dearest Hollywood, I still want to be captivated, terrified, enraptured, romanced, and taken for a white-knuckled ride. I still have faith in your ability to do all this and more. You have shown me greatness, sent me home laughing, put me on the edge of my chair, or other times left me too stunned to leave my seat. Maybe it’s time for some house cleaning – obviously you have too many non-movie lovers making the decisions out there. I’m tired of wasting my time and money watching substandard actors making banal and clichéd films. You are the Motion-Picture Industry – it’s high time you started acting like it again.

I resolve to evolve as my resolutions are more self-revolution.
No more self-recrimination or unplanned deviation.
No more sloth or gluttony or prideful mutiny.
No more financial panic or moments of shopping manic.
To be more than I have been and to be my own self-less friend.
To be genuine to my soul and make my own future my goal.
To plan my work and work my plan. To learn and do and take a stand.
To give my experience the wings to fly. To embrace my life before it slips by.
Evolution takes revolution, so I evolve.
I am resolute, I am my own Fate, and I am my own resolve.